Farron stiffens beneath me. “Go on.”
I touch the two bands of thorns around my wrists. “I didn’t only see Kel the night my mating frenzy took over. When I woke up, Caspian was in my room.”
Farron inhales sharply but says nothing more.
“He looked possessed, Fare, like his body wasn’t his own. He wasn’t there long, but … but it was like he was drawn to me.”
“The Prince of Thorns likes his games,” Farron says, but his voice holds little conviction.
My fingers dig into his vest. “Farron, are you able to feel him like you do Kel?”
Farron touches his neck. “If I feel anything for the Prince of Thorns, it’s only remnants of our bargain. It’s deep magic, Rosie. It clouds the soul.”
Maybe so, but there’s something more going on. Something I’ve been trying to ignore for months. The yearning for Caspian, the jealousy. And when I was searching for Farron, it was him I found instead. I jump off Farron’s lap, voice growing frantic. “He can speak in my mind. I feel a pull to him. Farron, what if the Prince of Thorns is also my mate?”
Farron’s golden eyes widen, then he slumps forward in his chair, hands in his hair. The Prince of Thorns attacked his home, and before that, Caspian betrayed Keldarion and the entire Enchanted Vale.
I clutch at my heart. “What else could it be?”
Farron stands, then walks on shaky legs towards me. “There is so much magic in this world we don’t yet know about. It could be any one of his tricks. And if it is true, we’ll figure it out together.”
He cups my face and I lean into his touch. “You don’t hate me?”
“Of course not, Rosalina. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me hate you. Besides, if the stars have matched your light with that vile darkness, you don’t have to accept the bond.”
“That’s true,” I whisper.
“We need more information. And in the meantime, be wary of what you feel. Ask yourself if it’s truly the same as with Kel and I.”
“Why don’t you hold on to Caspian’s book for a while?” I ask. “It does technically belong to you, after all. Maybe you’ll find some clue in it I missed.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a read.” Gently, he brushes the hair from my brow. My heart melts at his tenderness. This softness, this forgiveness … I’ve never felt as open with anyone as I do with him. With Farron, my secrets will always be safe. I look down at the thorns winding around my wrist. My bargain. “Farron, there’s something else.”
“Well, I never!” A voice smooth as honey caresses down the hall, followed by the wheel of carts.
I pull away from Farron, wiping my eyes. “That would be Marigold.”
“Never too late for afternoon coffee,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Please do not fret about Caspian. Don’t think you can’t tell me what’s going on in that glorious mind of yours. If you need to follow your feelings, I will stand by you. But I promise, Rosie. I will find the answers to your questions.”
Relief floods through me from his response. From his warmth and understanding, though I know inside, the idea must be truly haunting. Nodding, I turn as Marigold enters the room, rolling a tray cluttered with ceramic carafe, elegant cups, and a tower of cookies. Behind her, in a flurry, is Eldy.
“Lady Marigold, I’ve never been bombarded with such attitude.” The majordomo flaps his arms at his side.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
Marigold slams the carafe down with such vigor, little droplets fly out. Quickly, I grab the rubbing as Farron rolls up the map.
“The problem is Eldor has dared ask to escort me to Prince Ezryn’s welcome home jubilee tonight!”
Farron raises a brow and tries to reach for a cookie before Marigold swats his hand with a rolled napkin. “A plate first, Autumn Prince!”
“I thought you’d like to attend the jubilee, Marigold,” Farron says and gives Marigold a knowing look. “It’s a full moon tonight, after all.”
“Aye, I do, but not with someone that has more butter than biscuits for brains.”
“The nerve!” Eldy says. “In my day, an invitation of such caliber would be met with at least appreciation if not acceptance.”
“Appreciation,” Marigold scoffs, loading Farron’s plate with a teetering pile of cookies. “He expects appreciation from me? Me, who’s been serving in naught but Castletree for twenty-five years?”
“A place of highest esteem.” Eldy scrunches up his face. His features do look rather birdlike: the large nose, pointed chin, and gray hair pulled back like slicked tail feathers.
But he doesn’t know about the curse, doesn’t know that if he hadn’t stood Marigold up, she wouldn’t turn into a raccoon each night.
“A lady like Marigold cannot simply be asked to events such as this,” I begin. “You have to entice her to go with you.”
Marigold gives a huff of approval and finally hands over the plate of cookies.
“How would I do that?” Eldy asks.
I place a hand on his shoulder and laugh. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Eldy bobs his head. It’s like I can feel his magic through the connection of my hand on his shoulder. Really, deep down … He could be very birdlike.
Feeling a little strange, I remove my hand and pluck a cookie off Farron’s plate. The powdered sugar smells divine. Before I take a bite, I notice it’s divided into three different sections: one pink, one brown, and one yellow.
Marigold notices me examining it. “The pink represents the stone which shelters us, the brown represents the earth from which we grow, and the yellow represents the sun that gives us life.”
“All things that make the Spring Realm what we are,” Eldy finishes. Carefully, he picks one up and looks at it. “It’s been a long-time since I’ve had one of your famous polvorones, Marigold.”
She crosses her arms, but her voice is soft. “Been a long time since I’ve made them. They never tasted right when I made them in Castletree.”
Eldy takes a bite, crumbs dotting his beard. “I would have eaten them gladly.”
Farron and I exchange a look, and I sense an opportunity. I lean into Eldy, pretending to whisper, “Did you even tell Marigold about the present you got her for the occasion?”
The majordomo gives a raised brow, which I return with a wink. Ezryn had already shown me some of the beautiful jewels they craft here. I’m sure I could procure a trinket or two that Eldy could offer Marigold.
Eldy clears his throat and chuffs, “Well, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
Marigold purses her lips, and I can see her resolve weakening. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not saving all my dances for you.”
“Very well. I’m glad you see reason.” Eldy gives a loopy smile, before his face creases. “Wait, who else would you dance with?”
The two of them continue the argument as they leave the archives.